Some Incidents of the Night.
[The following was written for publication at the time of the explosion
and fire on the 1st October 1917, but has only now been released –
Editor]

Notwithstanding the tragedies and thrills of the past three years of
war, the glorious feats of valour and the great spirit of sacrifice the
fateful night of 1st October 1917, will stand out memorably in the
annals of an industrious community near Lancaster and Morecambe, a
community brought together by the exigencies of the time from all parts.
Men and women had left their homes to help in the gigantic task of
feeding the guns for those brave armies in the field out to strike a
blow for the liberty of the world against a cruel and tyrannical foe,
and in the midst of their might endeavours in the cause of right there
came a catastrophe. The possibility of such a thing did not deter those
thousands of workers, and on they sped at their divergent tasks without
fear and without trembling, anxious only that the famous British forces
and those of her brave Allies should not suffer. It was some time after
10 p.m. that the discovery of a fire was made and warnings had to be
given. No undue risks were thinkable, but away must go the busy workers
before a greater calamity should follow. With startling rapidity the
flames spread, and with a grim determination to save hands and brain for
further service the workers left the place. From surrounding points the
danger was scented. The fire-glow burst upon the skyline, and whilst
hoping for the best it was the worst that was anticipated. That
wonderful hive – one of many built, fitted and equipped, and manned by a
piece of brilliant foresight and masterly organisation – was destined to
partial destruction. No; it might be saved! Probably it did not arise
from that important corner, a large corner, it is true, but verily a
corner! Might it not be from some other cause, from one of those many
accidental sources which have brought about destruction of other
buildings? It may be, but –

Throughout the day the weather had been delightful. After a spell of
wet, cold days the sun smiled over the earth, and winter appeared a long
way off. In a quiet way the summer like conditions had been keenly
appreciated, and the day was drawing to a close with that grave
uncertainty as to the full significance of the new projects. Many
residents had retired for the night to gain repose for the toil of
another day and they were innocent of approaching danger. But something
was amiss, and confirmation of the worst fears were soon forthcoming. A
violent explosion, a crash, a rumbling echo around the neighbouring
fells, a shaking of everything on the surrounding earth, and
instinctively the great mass of humanity, whether asleep or awake, had
full knowledge. The fire-glow was more brilliant and more terrible. What
had happened to those near the scene? Had they had time to make good
their escape from that furnace fraught with such grave danger? Or had
they perished with the first earthquake? That could not be. The fates
must have been more kind, and at least some must escape, all, we hope,
and the surrounding mass, too. But it is action that counts. Words are
useless, and in a corner, face to face with the consequences, the
British people do not waste words. Aroused from peaceful slumbers, a
large proportion of people suspected a visit from those insidious
invaders who degrade warfare by killed and maiming defenceless women and
children. A sharp reconnoitre revealed the truth.

There were women and children in this eventful chapter, and they must be
helped. Orders from the authorities in case of that other emergency were
borne in mind, and families made to the basements. Many tried to see, of
course, and were out in the open courting danger, but the frequent
explosions, following with great rapidity and increasing intensity,
threatened awful penalties, and a tramp to fields, those quaint haunts
of nature, seemed to hold a brighter and happier prospect. So away they
went thither, leaving behind the view of that spectre on the sky, but
still failing to get out of sound of those terrible explosions.

A hurried exodus gives little time for detailed arrangements, but an
expeditions move is the key to such a situation. And such a move it
proved to be. The bright moonlight and mildness of the atmosphere helped
wonderfully to strengthen the determination to get in the open and stay
there until the danger should end, and crashes like those which
electrified the air for miles around could not long survive. Still the
die had been cast, and in the open country seemed the great opportunity
towards safety. Country lanes were thronged quickly. Those in doubt as
to the wisdom of their action gained confidence in that anxious crowd of
young and old, attired anyhow. In that perplexing moment many things
were forgotten. It was human life that was sacred, and out of reach of
those repeated blasts became the only motive.

Babies in arms cried piteously, and the frightened mothers did their
best to soothe them. Little boys and girls of tender years were
startled, and clung to their parental protectors or elder sisters and
brothers amazed at the force of every expedition. They were scantily
clad, but never complained. Mothers failed to gather up adequate wearing
apparel to face such unusual times in the lanes and fields, but there
were many good-hearted souls who had taken greater precautions in that
respect, and they shared willingly their scarves, coats, mufflers,
handkerchiefs, caps etc. There were those who stayed indoors, adhering
to official injunctions to keep in the basement of their dwellings. The
shaking and shattering of windows at close quarters was not a cheerful
accompaniment to the continued crashes from afar. And those weird
volumes of flames in the sky became more vivid and terrible, producing a
feeling of dread as to later eventualities. But it would not, and could
not, last long! The whole concern could not bear those rendings for
long, and yet they seemed never-ending. The police, both the regular min
in blue and “specials” tendered advice and assistance wherever possible,
and, like all the rest, hoped that a lasting peace would soon follow the
explosions – that fiery disturbance which had begun at the close of an
October day. Some parents had not neglected to bring perambulators or
go-carts for their offspring, and in the cool night air, which was
remarkable refreshing, the children slept peacefully on – a peace so
remote from the prevailing storm around, with its attendant hopes and
fears.

In other directions there was great activity on part of the firemen,
special contingents of police from other districts, medical men, nurses,
infirmaries and other institutions. Such a calamity might mean much for
those busy people and organisations, and they are always ready to devote
their best skill and attention to the needs of the occasion, however
great or small. The first contingents of employees from the blazing
factory near that stretch of water (which, by the way, formed an
important factor in the selection of the site) began to arrive from
unusual directions, for they saw no reason to confine themselves to
limited regular paths. They needed assistance, and they got help from
many sources. They were directed over difficult pieces of grounds to
roads of safety, and though tired, they did not stop within easy
distance of that peril which burst out in such a surprising manner. Like
those other weary people who had deserted a comfortable bed or a warm
fireside to the hills and valleys, they had not dallied to get their
out-door attire or even their food, which had been brought for the meals
during the night turn or work. Some of them had be fortunate enough to
get away with their rations, which were eagerly shared with companions
and others whom they met on that otherwise lonely road. All this time
the explosions came from the direction of that danger flame, followed by
a shrill whistle or a big crash, and these incidents were explained as
representing some of the works’ destruction.

But this buoyancy which had given such vigour and confidence to early
movement, combined with the hope of an early conclusion of that
“tremendous bombardment,” could not extend itself through a long night.
Fatigue began to show itself. The people could withstand a good deal,
but hunger and thirst were …..[a line of text cannot be read from the
newspaper cutting] …..roadside, and stone heaps were utilised for
resting places, and for hours the people hardened themselves to find an
element of comfort in those trying circumstances. Then the reports of
explosions became louder, and people, though tired and weary, followed
advice to get further out in the country lanes. At farms and cottages,
good Samaritans rose from their beds, and supplied hot tea, coffee,
cocoa, milk, biscuits, etc to forlorn and beaten pedestrians, who had
tramped about, many with the burden of a child in arms, for hours to
escape coming into close proximity with the terrible effects of that
continuous uproar. A little country church, a village institute, and
other accommodating premises were thrown open as “rest stations,” and
utilised to the fullest limits. Refreshments were brought from
generously disposed country friends and what a treat they proved to the
children, what a blessing to the old people, and at the same time most
acceptable to the young men and young women?

We heard of one farmer who from 1 a.m. to 4 a.m. must have provided
hospitality to over 400 people. The record of generosity on the part
others was none the less praiseworthy. Cottages also entertained to the
best of their ability. There were a few people who did not respond to
the needs of those tired, weary, all-night travellers. But there are
always some who never rise to an occasion. We had them at the outbreak
of the war. We have had them during the progress of the war. We had them
during that night, but their failure to meet a needy cause only
increased the measure of praise and gratitude bestowed upon those who so
willingly came forward at a trying time. There came a longing for home,
but the explosions, though less frequent, continued, and a recollection
of the early horrors caused considerable restraint. Eventually news came
round that danger was over, and towards 9 a.m. weary people returned to
homes or took refugee with newly made friends whom they had met in their
distress.

It was not an easy journey home. There were serious misgivings as to
whether the danger was over, as to what had happened in the houses they
had left behind, and even slight explosions from that same quarter gave
cause for further alarm, a trifling noise compared with the experience
of the previous ten hours causing no little amount of concern in the
nervous state in which the people found themselves. A baseless rumour
that more trouble was expected resulted in many people retracing their
footsteps, but the report was unfounded, and a contradiction put matters
right. Then as to the damage. Surprise was expressed that so little
material destruction had followed so long a series of explosions. In the
centre of Lancaster plate glass windows in business premises had been
smashed, and many houses suffered by the smashing of panes of glass. The
opening of windows by some thoughtful person had saved many panes.
Another town, nearer to the works, suffered to a greater extent. It is
smaller in size, but the chief breakages were in respect of windows in
shops and private houses. In one case a missile had been flung through
the roof of a house, but as the occupants were in the basement no
personal injuries were sustained. A barn was damaged by the fall of the
roof, and several farms also suffered damage to buildings and the loss
of cattle. The window frames and lintels from a second storey had also
been sent outside, crashing down with such force as to smash the iron
railings round the front garden.

Missiles had also been embedded in the fields and on footpaths, and the
windows of a small mission church had also been forced in, not more than
a square inch of glass remaining. Here the people also took refuge in
the open, and in some instances they went out very long distances. Both
towns had many of the employees billeted with them, but they go so
scattered in their search for safety that no new of their whereabouts
was available at short notice. Throughout Tuesday there were further
reports, and more anxiety. Business was quite at a standstill in both
towns in question. The train service between the two places was
suspended by one route awaiting orders for resumption. The road traffic
proceeded as usual and many sightseeing engaged in the task of picking
up souvenirs. Through out the day thousands of the girls who had
undergone such a trying ordeal, made their way home, startled it is
true, but still bent upon finding a fresh outlet for their energies in
the grim task before the nation to beat the Hun and those fighting with
him. The result of the night’s work was terrible enough, but there was
admirable testimony to the wisdom in selecting such a site, seeing that
comparatively speaking so little damage was suffered after such a
ghastly spectacle of destruction by fire and explosion. It will take
more than that mishap – so terrible and so tragic – to damp the ardour
of the British industrial classes.

Even the injury to the works, which is described in the official
communiqués as being “much damage,” is more restrained that the extent
of the explosions and fire suggested. With the number of casualties so
small one might be accused of exaggeration as to the intensity of the
fire and the subsequent explosions, but those who were in it have most
accurate knowledge and the most realistic recollections. A soldier of
many years service described the 3 a.m. crash as similar to the Messines
episode. Upon that testimony, is it unlikely that the night of 1st
October 1917 will be most memorable? We think not. Do you?

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